A Bit of Jam
by Jaded Optimism
Summary: A cute little fic about a few of Petunia's happier memories of her sister. one shot


**A Bit of Jam**

It was light outside. The sun peering in happily through the large window over the perfect, stainless-steel sink illuminated the fastidious kitchen; pride and joy of one Petunia Dursley.

The woman in question was frowning as she scrubbed at the smallest of strawberry jam blobs that rested, fresh and moist, on the pale countertop beside the bread box. She glanced over to the table where two boys sat eating the cause of the obscene disaster. Her own, a portly boy with pale hair and a permanently impatient look about his pudgy face sat opposite of(as she referred to him in her own mind) the "other one." Petunia's son leaned his elbows on the table, spilling bits of jam and bread from his afternoon snack not only onto his plate, but the table, the floor, his jumper and (puzzlingly enough) his fringe. He ate quickly; he was growing after all. As she watched, the Dursley child inhaled his fourth slice of bread and jam.

'Give me another,' he demanded, licking the remains of his latest piece off of his fat fingers.

'Of coarse, Dudley, dear,' his compliant mother replied. Once again she fetched the jam from the refrigerator and slathered a healthy amount onto a waiting slice of white bread before passing it over to her son. Without a thank you (boys will be boys, after all) he ate it greedily and, deeming himself finished, raced off to get jam all over the rest of the house.

Petunia smiled gently and wiped up the globs of jam that adorned the space her child had occupied. The "other one" still sat slowly working away at his first slice. A bit of jam clung to the side of his mouth as he carefully nibbled a crust-covered corner. Petunia sighed through her nose. There he sat, swinging his little feet (which still didn't reach the floor although her Dudley's had been able to touch the hardwood for months now) and eating slower that Petunia would have believed possible. He ate neatly, that she did admit, and a small part of her would have appreciated would it not have been him. But, of course, it was him that ate delicately, wiping up any stray bits of spread that strayed from his plate or onto his hands with a little paper napkin. It just wasn't _natural_.

Then again, what did _he_ know about _natural _anyways? _Naturally_, children didn't survive the attempted murder of crazy psychopaths that killed their parents, but not a defenseless infant. _Naturally_, children lived with their own parents instead of being dumped with their mothers' sister. _Naturally_, children didn't turn their teachers' wigs blue, or jump onto school roofs. _Naturally_, children were nothing like _him._ And of coarse (and at this moment it was most important in Petunia's mind) children didn't _naturally_ eat bread and jam very, very slowly. Except of coarse for… Lily.

Lily had done that. When they were children.

He'd barely known his parents, but still he had taken on traits of theirs in such a way that Petunia could have sworn it was her sister sitting there nibbling her piece of bread long past Petunia's snack was already finished. Lily had always liked eating slowly. When they were younger, she had insisted that she wanted to 'savor the flavor.' Whenever she said that they'd both giggle at the rhyme. Lily could always make anyone laugh. She was always laughing. Always smiling. Especially when the pair had been very young, as young as her nephew and son were now.

Lily had spent so many years saving each Christmas treat for the last possible moment, and slowly sucking on each lemon candy their Uncle Charlie had given them that over time she had forgotten how to eat quickly. It was such a strong habit that Lily continued to 'savor the flavor' long after both girls had grown up and moved away from home, and long after they had lost contact. And, it seemed, the habit had passed to her son. So many little mannerisms that the boy had adopted from his long deceased mother. He had a way of making his eyes furious without changing a single muscle on his face. Lily did that, too. He had a funny way of twitching his lips to the side whenever he wanted to laugh but knew it was inappropriate or would get him in trouble. Like last winter when Petunia's sister-in-law had visited and slipped on the ice outside and had to ask for help up because she kept falling. He hadn't laughed. Hadn't said a word. Hadn't even smiled. But he had wanted to. Petunia knew he had wanted to, because she knew that Lily would have wanted to.

Lily could always appreciate a good joke. Or a bad joke. Either way, Lily had adored the chance to let out a good laugh. Petunia wondered if the boy liked jokes. She realized she didn't know. Dudley didn't like jokes. He rarely understood them. But he was young, still. Wit may develop. But the other one… she had no idea.

A small spot of jam slipped slowly from the side of his bread, landing delicately onto the tabletop. His eyes cast gently towards her, but she did not know what he was looking for. Petunia stood watching beside her perfect sink. He carefully scooped up the bit of jam with his finger and licked it off gently before wiping the remains with his napkin. He smiled softly at her and popped the last bit of bread into his mouth. He licked his lips and slid off the chair, collecting his and his cousin's plates. The boy passed them to his aunt.

He grinned.

For a moment she felt truly grateful to him for that smile; so like Lily's in the way his brilliant eyes seemed to be swallowed up. In that simple way his mouth turned up and a little line appeared in his left cheek. Her work seemed almost unworthy of such a smile.

'Thank you, Aunt Petunia,' he said in a sweet, soft little voice. He turned and half-ran out of the kitchen and into the yard. This small service of a bit of bread and jam she had offered to her little nephew had made him happy. Imagine something as small as some jam making a child happy. And, in turn, it made the effort more than worthwhile to his aunt.

In that one way, that one insignificant detail, he was incredibly unlike his mother.

Making Lily smile had never seemed like an accomplishment.


End file.
